Sickness, Kisses, and Idiots
by eriririri
Summary: The great novelist Usami has fallen sick to a cold. Misaki, at first, gloats and finds it a sort of victory. But then he sees how much Usami is really suffering, he lightens up. Considerably.


A/N: This is a Usagi x Misaki FLUFF fanfiction. I was trolling the JR tags on Tumblr, and I noticed how someone was talking about the latest chapter, saying how they wished it would have been fluffy instead of... that. And then THIS came to my mind. I do not know how, exactly, but it did. And surprisingly enough, there is no sex in this one. It's all pure fluffish. Fluffish is good. I say ish because of sexiness and kinda sexual innuendo. Enjoy.

WARNING: Contains Yaoi/Shounen-Ai. Don't like? Go back. Like it? Well, enjoy!

"Oh, well if you'll look at that," the brunette sang tauntingly, waving a thermometer in the air with his hand. He laughed - if possible - even more tauntingly as he sat down on the edge of his landlord's bed.

"I don't want to hear it..." the silver haired man groaned, narrowing his violet eyes as his strength for movement left him gradually.

"Oh? You don't?" Misaki laughed, his green eyes glowing with humor and victory. He sighed, shaking his head slightly to get the brown hair out of his face.

"I must insist that I - "

The younger boy laughed out loud, cutting Usami off in mid-sentence, leaving him scowling like never before. "Can you believe it?" Misaki asked, waving his hand once more. "That the great novelist Usami Akihiko has a horrible cold? That he's coughing and hacking? Face somewhat flushed? Not trying to feel me up?"

"I..." Usami began, only to cough and hack terribly. He growled, tilting his head to wipe off saliva that dribbled down his chin. "I would 'feel you up' if I could. It seems I cannot move that much..."

Misaki snorted, shifting his weight slightly. "Serves you right," he told the man bluntly. "You need to learn what 'boundaries' are - and what they mean."

The silver haired man moved uncomfortably, almost wishing he could bury himself in the mattress of his bed. Another growl from the back of his throat came up, but he quickly tried to pass it off as a cough. "Why are you being so... un-Misaki towards me?" he asked suddenly, making the boy raise an eyebrow.

"What do you mean, Usagi-san?" the brunette asked, scrambling up slowly to give his landlord - and lover - more room to move about. Resting his hands on his hips, he looked down at the lump of blanket and man that was Usagi-san. 'Did I hurt him?' he thought to himself, his eyes scanning the lump on the bed. 'Naah, Usagi-san isn't... he wouldn't get... but then again, he's sick - as in, not in his normal mind. Kind of.'

Usami groaned - and said groan just sounded bad enough that Misaki winced, biting his lip to hold back a nasty comment. He shifted from foot to foot, hesitating. 'Maybe I really should lighten up,' he thought to himself. 'After all, I'm almost a hundred percent positive that his cold is due to staying up continuously for days, overworking himself and other things of the like...'

" - you usually freak out," Usami was saying, snapping Misaki back into reality. The younger boy hesitated more, narrowing his eyes as he looked down at the sick, weakened silver haired man.

Finally, the brunette sighed loudly, kneeling on the side of the bed with one knee. He reached over somewhat, resting the palm of his hand against Usami's hot, slightly sweaty forehead. "Aah, you're really warm..." he said, biting his lip - screaming at himself in his mind for how heartless he was moments before.

"Mm," the sick man noised back, nodding his head the tiniest bit. "And your hand... is rather cold," he told Misaki weakly, sighing just as weakly as his voice was.

The boy bit his lip even more. Sure, he had taken care of sick people before, and even a sick Usagi-san, but he was never... this sick all the other times. "Would you... like some sleep, Usagi-san?" Misaki whispered, trailing his hand to cover the man's eyes.

"Well, yes... but..." Usami began, his nose wrinkling somewhat as his lover covered his eyes. After a moment or so, the man grew silent, and Misaki wasn't sure if he had fallen asleep or just let the sentence be incomplete.

"Usagi-san?" the brunette whispered softly, inching his lips to the man's ear. He uncovered his eyes, noting that they were closed - but not too peacefully, which meant he was yet to be asleep.

"But..." the silver haired man began again. "I'd much rather..." he trailed off, coughing for a minute or so. "I'd rather much... much rather, I mean... have you sleep with me."

The man's sentence made the brunette twitch slightly, his eyes narrowing in frustration - until he realized that his words held no sexual hints. Narrowing his eyes, Misaki leaned back, letting a small laugh escape his lips. "Then I'd get sick, too, Usagi-san."

"Nn..."

"Hm?"

"You... you wouldn't," Usami argued, rolling over to face him even though his eyes were closed. A smile teased his lips as he said, "because idiots can't catch colds..."

An hour later, Misaki laid on the couch in the living room, darting quick looks at Usami's bedroom door. He had kindly ignored the silver haired man's remark about him not being able to catch his cold - only because he was an 'idiot.' Shaking his head, he rolled over on his back, and instead of darting looks at the door, he stared at it.

On the table beside the boy, there laid a nicely warm bowl of soup, and an alarm clock. Even though there was only five minutes to go - Misaki wanted to be right on the dot once it rang. Meaning, he would quickly punch the button to turn it off, grab the bowl steadily, and try to not run up the stairs to make sure his landlord and lover was still alive.

And in what seemed like seconds, the alarm rang off in uneven beeps, making the brunette jump in slight surprise. Quickly, he did every; slammed the button off, eased the bowl delicately, and about ran up the stairs to kick Usami's bedroom door open.

He navigated his way through the things on the floor, catching himself the numerous times he almost tripped. "Up, up," Misaki urged, setting the bowl down on the nightstand. He shook Usami's shoulder lightly, trying to wake him up in the nicest way he could manage.

The man groaned in protest, coughing loudly into the pillow. He laid there a few minutes as Misaki continued to shake him and order him to sit up.

Gradually, little movement by little movement, he emerged from the mountain of blankets that covered him. Usami - sick, weak, and scowling - leaning against the bed's backboard. He shifted uncomfortably, groaning in pain as his body ached.

Misaki narrowed his eyes, ignoring the pang of guilt mixed with pain that swam in his chest. 'I shouldn't have been so harsh on him earlier...' he thought bitterly, shuffling his feet as he stepped closer to Usami's bedside. "Hungry? I made you soup."

He nodded and continued his scowling. "Yes."

The brunette reached for the bowl until something else came to his mind. "Wait a moment..." he muttered, turning to kneel beside the silver haired man. Misaki reached somewhat, pressing his hand against Usami's forehead. "Ah... Usagi-san, you're warmer than before..."

"Am I?" he asked, staring blankly at the boy. "Are you sure? Because I feel a bit cold, actually."

The boy nodded, looking at Usami up and down - or, well, what he could see of him while he was seating, covered in blankets. "You should probably take off some clothes, Usagi-san..."

Usami noised a "tsk, tsk," his healthy, non-sick, somewhat perverted smirk playing at his lips. "Now, now, Misaki. Don't try to seduce the sick and weak."

"I-I am not!" the brunette yelled defensively, heat radiating off his chest. Then, quickly, realizing how close they were sitting, he covered his mouth with his hands - noting how Usami winced at the loudness. "I-I'm sorry!" he told him just as quickly, this time whispering.

He shook his head, his eyes shut tight while his head pounded. "It's... okay," he managed to get out through his clenched jaw.

Sniffing, Misaki edged away from him. He waited a moment or so until the silver haired man's violet eyes opened, setting into that scowl. "Now, c'mon. Take off your shirt."

"I don't think I can..."

"W-Wha - ? Of course you can. Come on, you need to eat before it gets cold," Misaki replied, furrowing his eyebrows. He patting what was Usami's leg, hoping it was comforting and not painful.

"No, Misaki... I really don't think I can," Usami urged, lifting his gaze to the brunette's. "My arms... they don't want to move."

"You've gotta be kidding me!"

"Seriously, Misaki, I'm not," the silver haired man argued, glaring as he tried to lift his arms - and, it seems, he was telling the truth. As Usami tried to move his arms, Misaki concentrated on his face, taking in the pain that swam over his features; then, he remembered when his lover tried to sit up - all the groans of hurt, most likely from his body aching.

"O-Okay, okay, stop," Misaki urged once more, and at once, Usami let his arms fall like sacks of hammers. The man let out a sigh of relief, his face becoming more relaxed now that his arms weren't under stress. "But," Misaki added, "you still need to take off your shirt. So you won't be as warm," he added.

"Well... why don't you do it?"

At Usami's statement, the brunette's face flushed. He averted his gaze away from everything - said gaze somehow settling on the bowl of soup. Sighing, Misaki gave in; after all, he didn't want the soup to go to waste, and it was most likely getting colder by the minute. "But... how should I do this..." the boy muttered to himself.

"Just get on me and ease my shirt off," the silver haired man instructed, his stare intensely rested on the boy.

Hesitantly, Misaki crawled on the bed, careful to navigate himself so he wouldn't land a body part on the sick man whom was resting on the bed. He eased himself so he was straddling Usami a bit, scooting up gently as though he didn't wish to disturb him. "Er..." the brunette muttered, finally close enough to do the task.

"My arms can stand slight movement," the man threw in suddenly, noting Misaki's hesitation - and embarrassment.

He muttered a "Right" and pursed his lips together. Carefully, he reached down to Usami's waist, circling his fingers to the inside of his shirt, trying to ignore the jolt in his stomach as his fingers brushed against his lover's so-much-warmer-than-usual skin. Misaki eased his shirt up, biting his lip as his fingers brushed over Usami's nipples - making the man jump slightly.

The brunette breathed in deeply, fighting off images. "Arms..." he murmured, knowing his landlord would know what he meant. Little by little - though groaning in protest - Usami lifted his arms, Misaki standing slowly to his knees. "Just a bit more," Misaki encouraged, nodding in approval as he finally eased Usami's shirt off, tossing it lightly to the floor.

As Usami let his arms drop - again, like a sack of hammers - Misaki scooted back, stopping when he caught the silver haired man's movement of hand. The brunette nodding, stopping in his tracks. He glanced beside him, noticing that the man was spreading his legs. "Well... now that that is over, I'm a bit aroused."

Misaki glared at him, his face flushing. "W-Well, you'll just have to deal with it."

"Should I take off my pants, too? No, wait..." he paused, coughing as he looked under the sheets. "Already off, sorry. Well then, Misa - "

"We're not having sex, Usagi-san."

The silver haired man blinked somewhat, unsure. "Obviously. I'm sick."

Taken aback, the brunette's eyebrows rose. "B-But then... you spread your legs?"

"So you could feed me more easily..."

"F-Feed yo - ?"

"Come now, Misaki," Usami coughed, wincing at the movement. "You saw it with your own eyes. It puts me in pain to move, let alone cough like that."

'Aaaah, damn,' ran through Misaki's mind. He bit back a comment, hanging his head slightly. "Will you get the bowl for me?"

"Certainly," the man said, biting the inside of his cheek as he reached over to grab said bowl. Slowly, he managed, and finally handed it over to Misaki, who had scooted up more for easier feeding.

Twenty minutes passed quickly as Misaki fed the silver haired man. He ate slowly, his gaze rested on the brunette's face - whose gaze was, of course, averted away. One last blow to the steaming soup and one last swallow of said soup, Misaki was finished feeding the man.

The brunette was just about to hoist himself off the bed when Usami took the bowl from him, setting it down on the nightstand where it was twenty minutes ago. The silver haired man quickly gripped Misaki's forearm, pulling gently so Misaki could understand what he meant.

"Wha - ? But, Usagi-san..."

"Come on. I'm very tired, Misaki."

"But I don't want to get sick," he protested, giving in slightly at Usami's constant tugging.

"You won't," Usami insisted with a laugh - said laugh quickly turning into a cough. He sniffed, flapping the covers over them both. "I just want to sleep, Misaki."

"Nn..." he noised, his eyes narrowing. "You... You're warm."

"Well, I do have nothing but my boxers on, after all..." he admitted, turning his head slightly as he coughed. Again, he sniffed, wrapping his arm around his lover's body.

"If I get sick..." the brunette threatened through clenched teeth, letting his treat trail off.

"Not to worry," Usami laughed once more, cuddling closer to the boy. "Idiots don't catch colds..."

A minute or so passed as Misaki tried to breathe normally; and to also keep his violent urges in check. Once calmed down, he narrowed his eyes even more to the soft sound of Usami's snoring. "Usagi-san...?" the brunette whispered, unsure if he was asleep or not.

Another minute and Misaki decided his lover was fast asleep - hopefully sleeping off his cold while he was at it. Pursing his lips, he shifted around, trying not to wake Usami. 'It seems I can't get out of this one...' he thought bitterly, but nonetheless, a smile was on his face as he rested a hand on Usami's forearm; comfortably drifting to sleep - praying he wasn't going catch that cold.

"Oh dear," Usami murmured two days later, narrowing his eyes at the thermometer in his hands. Pursing his lips, he spun around to face Misaki, who was laying down in a heap of blankets with a scowl on his face. "It looks like idiots do catch colds..."

"B-Bakaaacho!"

The silver haired man laughed out loud, clearly better and healthy now that his could has transferred itself onto his lover. He put a hand to his eyes, wiping off the tears of his laughter. Snorting, he walked over to the side of the bed, kneeling down on a knee as Misaki did days ago. "Not to worry. I'll take care of you."

"Th-That's the last thing I wanna hear, baka Usagi!"

Another laugh. "Perhaps," Usami agreed, leaning slightly to press his lips against the brunette's. "But really, Misaki," he began, reaching to fluff his pillow - again, he leaned down, pressing his lips to Misaki's.

"D-Don't do that," he groaned, shaking his head. "You'll get sick again."

"Oh be quiet. It doesn't matter to me if you are sick."

"I-It... it doesn't?"

"Not at all," he told the boy, shifting his weight on the bedside. "I'd overlook a sickness or illness to kiss you. I'd do anything, or overlook anything, if it meant I could kiss you." Again, surely not for the last time that night, Usami leaned forward and pressed his lips to Misaki's; and the silver haired man did enough coaxing that Misaki, sick of a cold, kissed him back. 


End file.
